


It Happened Aboard the Prydwen

by Goodneighbor_Neighbor (Fan_by_Proxy)



Series: Commonwealth Kinks [2019 Prompt List] [13]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Barebacking, Blackmail, Creampie, F/M, Fight Sex, Oral Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Rough Kissing, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:08:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24139390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fan_by_Proxy/pseuds/Goodneighbor_Neighbor
Summary: Elder Maxson is positive the Knight with the pre-war record for suspicious associations is responsible for the near-total loss of one of his recon squads; but what was meant to be a dressing-down and arrest turns into the breakdown of his reserve and a giving-in to bad passions. And the Sole? Well she figures out a good way to protect her means AND tender her resignation to the Brotherhood.
Relationships: Arthur Maxson/Female Sole Survivor
Series: Commonwealth Kinks [2019 Prompt List] [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1727050
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21





	It Happened Aboard the Prydwen

In all the times Yvette had ever been ordered into someone’s office to be dressed down, she had always considered herself--if not  _ totally _ blameless--to be the least at-fault party involved. And standing there, in Maxson’s  _ personal  _ quarters for some unknowable reason, only maintained that fact. Yvette drummed her fingers against her arm, feeling her back teeth crack as she ground them in an attempt to keep a neutral face and her temper. Sabotaging the Brotherhood patrol near Goodneighbor was beyond risky, and it would be a lie to say she didn’t feel a shred of guilt about it; having to cut throats was still an uncomfortable new thing. But the baby-faced scribe who’d let slip that it was recon into Goodneighbor with the intent to ‘sweep up the undesirables’ had pretty much made the choice for her.

“--and you  _ expect _ me to believe this?! I  _ know _ you’re responsible, some way, some how!” 

Yvette tuned back into Maxon’s yelling. He was waving a holotape around--probably Babyface’s report on the whole thing. “Oh? And this is what the scribe’s report says?” she demanded. “Or do you forget that the heart of the area is very hot for super mutant activity? That they have somehow managed to settle into a cache of mini-nukes and even the smaller patrols will have with them at least one suicidal beast? We are lucky that _ anyone _ has come back, and it is  _ thanks _ to the begrudging cooperation  _ of _ Goodneighbor that you even have a report to read.” Yvette snapped.

Maxson snarled. It had not been a team full of scouts, of wet-behind-the-ears recruits who didn’t know the dangerous end of a gun from the grip. And yet somehow, except for the starry-eyed scribe who sat in the mess talking about how the knight had snatched him from the very jaws of death (in his telling) and this  _ insolent _ woman standing in front of him, they were now dead. She stood with her arms folded, hip cocked, glaring daggers. “Oh  _ yes _ , your suggested ‘hearts and minds’ campaigning has been  _ such _ a wonderful help.” Maxson spat.

It had been a gamble on an old memory she hadn’t quite understood even when it was fresh: ‘hearts and minds’ the phrase  _ Martin  _ said meant to make the locals like them well enough to--if not outright support their actions and maneuvers--at least keep out of the way of them. When Maxson had started talking about moving on “mistakenly mixed-settlements”, she’d panicked and thrown that out there. Fortunately, there were senior officers on the deck who weren’t familiar with the term itself but had supported the measure, at least temporarily. “Is there food in the Prydwen’s mess? Are people throwing rocks at the armored patrols? How many skirmishes with non-Raider civilians have there been, Maxson?” Yvette fired back. “It may not fit your rah-rah-blow-it-all-to-hell attitude, but it has been a suitable campaign!”

Maxson crossed the small distance between them fast, getting her face. “You are insubordinate and a trouble-maker, and I  _ know _ this is your fault.” he hissed in her face.

Yvette rose up on her toes and leaned in closer, close enough to bite his face if she thought to. “ _ You _ are a sad, sad,  _ little _ man who would see enemies in his morning coffee.” she replied, low and firm. “You have your scribe’s report. You have food on the Prydwen. Your people are generally un-bothered by the local populace as they comb through the ruins, and it  _ kills _ you that it is because of someone else’s idea and not your own brute force tactics that are good only for decimation and opening cans of Cram.” 

He saw red then; her hissing insults lit the fuse of his temper. Maxson lashed out, grabbing her throat and drawing his fist back. She beat him to the punch though, boxing his ears hard and fast. They rang and throbbed and his grip dropped from her throat to the collar of her shirt. Maxson dragged her to the floor and was rewarded with her heels driving into his shins. The move took his feet out from under him but that just meant they were on the same plane to fight. Maxson was faster, heavier, could hit harder, but she was wily--unpredictable like a scrapper, a brawler that didn’t give a fuck about the rules of engagement and relished in taking the cheap shots. She twisted and writhed and spat insults at him between gasps. The flush in her cheeks and her rage made her eyes sparkle, and all the maneuvering had left her rucked up, hair in her face and fresh tears in her clothes. But she didn’t scream, not even when he caught her wrists and managed to pin them over her head and wind his legs around hers to keep her knees from reducing his chances of fatherhood. 

Maxson bent down, to get as close to her face as she had been when she dropped those  mutinous insults , ignoring the spit on his cheek courtesy of those red  disloyal lips. What he intended to do in that very intimate space was declare against her and then have her arrested. But as they huffed in each others’ faces from the effort, and Maxson bathed in the fire from her blue-green eyes, that idea disappeared; all he wanted, just for that instant, he was going to take.

Yvette shrieked against his mouth, feeling the burn of stubble as he ground his mouth against hers. It was a rough kiss, not just because of the stubble but because it didn’t feel like he was trying to  _ kiss _ her; more like he was trying to possess her, mouth first. He was panting when the kiss broke, lips trembling as he stared down at her. “ _ Path _ _ étique!”  _ She declared. Then Maxson dragged her wrists down along the grated floor, a cruel move that took at least a layer of skin off the backs of her hands and her forearms. Before she could call him several kinds of a fatherless bastard for the move, he buried his face in her neck and bit down.

Maxson relished the startled moan that came out of her throat as he caught the soft spot just under her ear between his teeth and bit it sharply. It was an opening that Maxson took hard, worrying that skin with his teeth and his tongue, sucking at it and pulling until she bucked under him. He pulled back and saw the confusion in her eyes; she was just as unsure what had changed as he was. That was a comfort, he thought, as he kissed her mouth again.

Yvette grabbed his ears the second his tongue tried to come into her mouth, forcing his head back. She dug her nails into the skin where ear met scalp, where it would start to tear if she pulled hard enough one way or the other. Maxson was so  _ heavy _ on top of her, so heavy and his gaze heated, his legs strong where they twined with hers. 

The insubordinate Vaulter made a frustrated noise before pulling Maxson down into another kiss, raking her nails over his scalp and pulling his hair as she fought his mouth. She tasted wonderfully,  strangely sweet--not the Nuka sweet or a chem sweet, thank goodness--just sweet and  exotic and alive. 

When this kiss broke, Maxson scrambled to his feet, grabbing her under the arms to hoist her up and throwing her onto the bed. She bounced, making an indignant noise, but before the air could change again, Maxson threw himself back on top of her. He kissed her rough and mean, fought her tongue as his hands pushed past hers to go under her shirt and feel the skin, get his fingers on her breasts. She jumped when he tweaked her nipples, squeezing the fat little things, and he laughed.

Yvette punched his shoulder for laughing. He was  _ so _ heavy, and the bulge in his pants was tremendous. She wasn’t going to reach for it, she was  _ not _ , even if it had been legitimately more than two hundred years since she had gotten off, even if there were brief moments--very very very  _ very _ brief moments--that this grasping, sad war boy reminded her so much of  _ Martin _ . She wasn’t going to be gentle for him, or soft; if he wanted to fuck her, he needed to  _ earn _ it!

Maxson licked his lips. “You know this isn’t your issued uniform.” he popped the buttons on her pants, grabbing everything at her waist and yanking down hard. She at least helped him by kicking her boots off as he pulled. 

“So fucking demote me.” she snarled.

Maxson shook his head. “We both know that won’t make a bit of difference to you,” he said as he pressed her thighs apart and slid his hands along them to the dark curls around her slit, “so I have to correct you another way.” he breathed, dragging his thumbs along her lips and then spreading them. She wasn’t that wet but he could fix that. Maxson pressed forward, dragging his tongue between his thumbs to get that first taste of her.

Yvette gasped, slapping the top of his head. How a selfish, stiff asshole like this knew what a clit was, let alone how to tease it was beyond her. But he was massaging the sides of it, using the flat of his tongue across the top, staring up at her with dark eyes as he worked. It had been  _ so _ long since she’d had somebody between her thighs; she wanted to cry.

The confused expression on her face had given way to something different, something needier and even a little frightened as she warmed up. Maxson tasted the change as the sweat and tang gave away to something creamier and deeper. Her clit had flushed full and fat, proud as the rest of her and an easy target to land on. She was still fighting him though, still holding back; even as her hips popped, the only noise she made was a strangled little mewl. Maxson knew what his mission was at that moment: get her to call his name. 

If only he wasn’t  _ such _ an asshole, Yvette thought regretfully as the first little orgasm burst from her. That  _ mouth _ was a prize and she wouldn’t have minded being able to close her legs on his head, feel the stubble burn on her thighs. But Maxson was getting up and shrugging out of his clothes, revealing his solid build and a fine covering of hair. He didn’t give her time to pull her own shirt off, yanking it over her head and tossing it away; Yvette settled for running her hands over the hair on his arms and on his chest. He hadn’t opened his pants yet but she was  _ not _ going to do that for him.

Had men back then not been that hairy? Maxson wondered as her eyes and her hands skimmed his arms and chest like she was fascinated. The light touches were so different from the ear-boxing, open-handed slaps earlier! He cupped her slit, petting the wet curls lightly before easing a finger in. There was still prep to do, and in truth he was curious to test how she felt before he committed to going all-in.

Yvette knew her eyes were rolling back as he slipped his finger in and began to feel around. He wasn’t afraid to pull, to hook into the soft places and tug at them before drawing his finger back. Either he fucked around  _ much _ more than she thought, or there was a manual somewhere on the Prydwen that deserved a gold star for its instructions. 

She was huffing and puffing, grabbing his wrist to direct his finger, but she was still quiet. It seemed safe to add a second finger so Maxson did, delighting as her hips rose up to meet him. It was a tighter fit now, and he couldn’t move his fingers as much together as he’d been able to with the one, but she didn’t seem bothered. If anything, it was better for her. She’d thrown an arm across her face, other hand clutching the holotags around her neck, and whimpered. Maxson licked his lips, pumping his fingers hard, letting his palm bounce off her skin to test the resistance. 

Yvette couldn’t look at him, it felt too good and he was  _ such _ an asshole! “Fuck me already you big bastard!” she managed to gasp out, just on the verge of another orgasm, a bigger one than before. All she needed was a  _ little _ more. Then his fingers were gone and she raised up on her elbows to swear at him and his mother. The insults died in her throat as Maxson undid his pants and pushed them and his underwear down. “ _ Oh _ .” she swallowed.

Maxson was  _ big _ \--like ‘two pop cans stacked on each other in the machine’ big--and clearly heavy because he didn’t point out at her or up towards his belly, he hung down and to the right. The tip was dusky pink and not yet totally free of his skin. 

He watched her face; she looked surprised but not afraid. That was good. Maxson grabbed himself to pull the skin back off his head, wincing at the pinch and then shivering at the relief of finally being all the way out. He got a knee on the bed, bracing one of her thighs out of the way, and teased his head against the wetness on her lips. His other hand reached out and slid under her head to grip the back of her neck. 

_ Either _ he had been hiding another two inches under his turtleneck or the skin was just that stretched; Yvette wasn’t sure and at the moment it didn’t really matter. He had one of her thighs hooked on his hip and was nudging her with his tip, already drippy with clear sticky fluid. His other hand was gripping the back of her neck and he was looking down at her expectantly. Was he looking for permission? Or to see if she was afraid? Well the joke was on him; he never saw her husband. Yvette licked her lips and raised her other leg, hooking her hand around her thigh to help hold it closer to her chest. 

Maxson’s mouth went dry. She was arranging herself for him, making room; he didn’t mind a practiced woman, but there was something special about an insubordinate woman giving way like this. He pressed in fast, letting her deal with his weight in her own way; she gasped and grunted, but still didn’t give him what he wanted.

It would have been  _ nice _ if he’d felt like teasing first, let her feel the shape and get used to it before going right to his balls; so much for the gold star for whatever sex manual the Brotherhood put out, Yvette thought. Someone should correct the fool, but it wouldn’t be her; this was a one-time thing, she promised herself, no matter how good it wound up being.

Maxson ground against her, watching her face screw up. She didn’t demand he pull out, or scream; she was obviously a  _ well-practiced _ woman. He didn’t have to keep holding back. Maxson got his other knee on the bed, locked his hands behind her neck, and started to thrust. He felt her loosen around him and heard her whimper. “It’s alright,” he said softly to her pained expression, “just say my name, it’ll feel better when you say my name.”

Of  _ all _ the egotistical things for a man to say when he fucked--it felt good by virtue of foreplay and the confusing rush of lust and hatred that had somehow come out during the fistfight, but if he thought for one goddamn second she was just waiting to go to pieces because of some unrequited feeling well…he should have fucked her some months ago, when everything was new and the Brotherhood was the most familiar thing she’d seen in a world of unfamiliar. Yvette grit her teeth, grabbing onto his arms and digging her nails in; not for malice but because she  _ was _ close in spite of his mechanical thrusting. It had been  _ so _ long and even if he didn’t have  _ Martin’s  _ care, he could fold her up, pin her down, the way her husband used to. She didn’t realize how very much she missed the warmth of sex, how cold her life felt, until this moment. It was a problem to consider later--the problem now was she was done with fooling around with this fool and he was still humping away. “ _ A-a-a-Arthur!” _ Yvette made herself look up at him with her most doe-eyed expression and whimper; sometimes a girl just had to fake it to move on.

Maxson shuddered; she’d said his name, of course she had. She might be insubordinate, have a pre-war record as a suspicious person, and an abundance of misguided compassion, but she just needed the right hand to correct her, remold her back into the kind of support staff that served mankind’s interest. “ _ Yvette _ !” he hissed, planting himself deep as he came. The only regret he had as he flooded her was that the on-board medical staff had not yet successfully documented her cycle. It would have been a fitting finale to have her successfully impregnated at the start of her taming.

Being creamed by someone she knew without a doubt she could not stand at this point was such an insult, but the salt in the wound was his collapsing on top of her. Mechanical thrusts and he didn’t even consider shifting to the left or right when he finished? Yvette patted his back. “That’s right  _ Arthur _ , just rest now.” she murmured. She had a plan, and all he had to do was fall asleep.

Maxson sighed, adjusting his hips. It was nice, her cooing and petting him instead of swearing and hitting; and if she was content to wait for his next erection and continue…well maybe he wouldn’t even  _ need _ an ovulation chart to consider.

“That’s right  _ Arthur _ , rest sweetly.” Yvette stared at the ceiling over his shoulder, biding her time.

Maxson woke up feeling a crick in his back and his shoulders and a sharp pain in the old scar. He went to stretch and realized his arms were pinned down, forced by the cuffs that went from his wrists to the legs of the bed. “ _ What _ the hell?!” he began.

Yvette was stretched out beside him, and the sharp pain was the tip of a small knife she was balancing on the raised tissue. “Hush; you would not want your subordinates to discover you balls-naked and chained to your own bed, with your own handcuffs, would you?”

She had a very good point. She also  _ had a knife _ . “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Maxson demanded with a snap.

“You and I need to have a  _ very _ important conversation, Arthur.” Yvette said softly. She ran the tip of the knife over the scar; just the very tip, not drawing blood, just putting something like a paper-cut right over his victory emblem. “If you  _ ever _ touch me, like you did before, I will use this knife and I will take your skin off. Then I will throw it off the Prydwen to be food for whatever it lands on.” She said softly. “Do you understand? You can nod, if you understand.”

He was mortified; how had he so  _ severely _ misjudged the situation? Or was this some kind of game?

“Well, in any case, I need you to listen to me  _ very _ closely, Arthur.” Yvette said, running the knife along his scar again to give him another light and impossibly irritating cut. “You know that I will stop at  _ nothing _ to rescue my son from the Institute, yes? You can nod.”

Maxson gave her a slow and begrudging nod. He was going to have her arrested…after he choked her unconscious and used her to satisfy the still-burning desire in his belly. 

“You understand that no matter what is in my way, I  _ will _ rescue my son, yes?” Yvette slapped his face with the flat of the blade. “You need to understand these things, if you do not already.”

“I understand.” Maxson managed through grit teeth. 

“Good. Then you understand, if  _ you _ put yourself in my way…by coming after me, by attacking Goodneighbor, or my settlements, that it will not end well. It will end in fire, and blood, and I will make myself live long enough to see that you understand what ruin  _ really _ is, before I end your life.” Yvette said quietly as rage seeped into her voice; the rage that Kellog had seen in his last, and that the Institute would see once she got her son back.

Humiliated, cuffed to a bed, and with stinging cuts on his face; he should raise the alarm. But Maxson was so deeply humiliated at this disruption of power and still cuffed to the bed; if word of this got out, he would lose his command and his face. “We will leave each other alone, Arthur. And we will be happy for it. That is my proposed treaty, Arthur. Do you accept?”

“I  _ will _ get you for this.” he hissed.

“If you attack my home, or my people, your revenge will  _ never _ happen Arthur.  _ Nothing _ and  _ no one _ will keep me from rescuing my baby. That is the simple truth of it.”

Maxson glared, even as the lust in his belly coiled tighter and hotter. She was mad if she thought she could take on the Prydwen, the pride of the Brotherhood, if he decided to set it against her. It didn’t matter how many kills she had under her belt, how many successful ops she had completed in their name; they were-- _ he was _ \--the goddamn Brotherhood of Steel! And she was one woman with a handful of mismatched arms, questionable associations, and no tactics. 

But as he stared into her eyes, and the cold frankness of her words washed over him and did nothing to stifle his lust, he had to admit a very small bit of admiration for her. Some people could declare that nothing would get in their way, and then they crumbled on the first obstacle. She had gone from questionable person and housewife to a key player in the Commonwealth’s current structure, and she wasn’t done. “You won’t be able to protect that den of freaks and mistakes forever.” he swore.

“Perhaps. But for now, it is my home base. And to attack it is to declare war on me…and you know what I can do, what I have already done, on those who declare war on me.” Yvette replied. “But if you insist, I can slit your throat now, and spare you the consciousness of being found in this state. Or you can accept this as an accord, at least for some time.”

“And how do I get out of this with dignity?” he demanded.

“That is for me to know, and you to learn.” Yvette replied. She sat up. “So it is that everyone knows you keep handcuffs in your bedroom and know that it is because you like to do perverse things--I took the liberty of writing a full report on your terminal  _ and _ your bathroom mirror--” she interrupted herself, smiling coldly, “and you will not be able to defend yourself because I slit your throat…or you accept my terms. My people, my base, off-limits. And you get out of this with  _ very _ minor embarrassment.”

Maxson took a deep breath. “This isn’t the end of it.”

“No, I expect it is not. But it will be for now, unless…”

Maxon grit his teeth, feeling one on the left crack. “Fine.  _ I agree _ ; we won’t fire on your misbegotten little shithole and the farms that aren’t already supplying the Prydwen. But if you find yourself coming up against a recon squad,  _ they will not show you mercy _ .” he snarled. 

“Well then let us hope that does not have to happen Arthur.” Yvette patted his face--well more like slapped it a couple of times. “Consider my commission resigned.” she added.

He growled.

“I am taking a vertibird to the ground. In about twenty minutes, you will be loose.” Yvette said.

“ _ Twenty minutes?! _ By who?!” He demanded.

Yvette got off the bed, picking up her pack. She hated that she smelled like the soap on the Prydwen, but there was no way she was walking out of there with bad sex on her skin. “Someone who is loyal to you, who will not spread the gossip of what he has seen.”

Maxson pursed his lips. “Then that’ll be the one I’ll send after you first.” he threatened.

Yvette turned around and sat on the edge of the bed. “ _ Arthur _ , did we not just have an accord?” she said sweetly. 

“I didn’t say it’d be immediately.” he replied smugly.

Yvette shook her head. “Tricky, tricky…” The knife, which she had sheathed and tucked into her pants at the small of her back, came out again. “ _ Boy _ .” she drew a quick slash across his shoulder. It wasn’t deep, but it did bleed.

_ “Bitch! _ ” he hissed.

“You are still alive, are you not? That  _ can _ change.” Yvette replied, pressing the flat of the blade under his chin. It was a wicked little sticker; all she had to do was press down and the blade would start biting into his neck.

“We have an accord, we  _ have an accord _ !” Maxson declared. It had been word games before then; he’d mistaken her carefulness with the blade as hesitation. Blasting a synth or a super mutant or ferals was one thing, but she had a reputation for mercy--too much mercy--and he’d counted on it too hard.

“ _ Bien _ .” Yvette got up, sheathing the knife and tucking it away again. “Maybe take another nap  _ Arthur _ …you could use the rest.” she said before slipping out of his quarters. 

He was going to order her capture; have her brought to him alive. She’d be under arrest, his prisoner…and he was going to make her  _ his prisoner _ , Maxson vowed. At least…in a little while. After he figured out how to erase the evidence of this gross tactical error.

On her way to the deck, Yvette caught sight of Danse. “Paladin!” she called out.

He turned. “Knight DuPont, it’s good to see you. I understand the last recon mission was…it…” Danse coughed. “You have my sympathies.” he managed to get out.

Yvette nodded. There were times __ when Danse wasn’t  _ completely _ wrapped up in being the Brotherhood poster boy, that she could genuinely see herself liking him. “Thank you Paladin Danse; I really do appreciate that.” she murmured. 

“Was Elder Maxson--I mean I know he was upset at the losses, I hope you won’t take his address personally.” Danse floundered.

“ _ Oh _ \--Paladin Danse, do not worry. We discussed the scribe’s report, and we came to an accord. Ok? So no worries.” she smiled up at him.

He nodded. “That’s good to hear, ma’am.”

Yvette felt guilty, seeing the relief flood and warm his surprisingly soulful eyes. “Thank you Danse. You are kind to me, and I appreciate it.” she said sincerely.

Danse flushed. “Uh..ma’am?”

“Elder Maxson requested to speak to you in his quarter in about twenty minutes or so.” Yvette said before he could fumble more. He was so far away from his own feelings, it made her sad. “Oh, and bring to him these keys? He has mislaid them.” She held out the tiny cuff keys.

Danse frowned. “Ma’am? Where are you going, if you’re not bringing these to him?”

“I need to take a Vertibird down; there is a trader in Diamond City with some potentially useful documents.” she lied. “I am going to retrieve them.”

“Ah, of course.” Danse nodded curtly, holding his hand out for the keys. “It seems like an easy mission, but are you sure you should be going alone?”

Yvette nodded. “I have plenty of contacts in Diamond City, and if the time goes too late, I will overnight there and signal my return later. Be at ease Paladin Danse, this is not a big task.”

“Yes ma’am.” Danse snapped into salute. “Safe retrieval ma’am.” he said.

“Have a good day, Danse.” Yvette murmured before skimming her way to the waiting Vertibird. So far, so calm. And she could count on Danse to wait  _ exactly _ twenty minutes before going to Elder Maxson’s quarters. She could get dropped off and disappear into the rubble of the Commonwealth before Maxson probably went back on his word. Although…the threat of both death and embarrassment were very real, so maybe she was a little more in the clear than she thought.

It wasn’t the easiest trip back towards Goodneighbor, but on her own and with better knowledge of the alleyways at this point, Yvette managed to get to the gate as the sun was going down. She could hear raucous cheering from the other side; it was a good sign. She slipped inside.

“And  _ there _ she is, the woman of the hour!” Hancock shouted, zeroing in on the ballsy Vaulter as she came around the corner. “Our newest neighbor, on account of her setting us up to knock down those Brotherhood assholes and defending Goodneighbor from their fuckin’ tyranny!”

Yvette froze; having a crowd--even a well-meaning crowd--all turn towards you whooping and clanking was unnerving. Not knowing what to do, she gave a little wave and an embarrassed smile.

“Such a modest gal, ain’t she?” Hancock laughed. “Alright, let’s take this party to the Rail--first round’s on me, and then everybody else better pony up to buy the beautiful ball-buster a drink!” 

It was a mark of how relieved everyone was about surviving that there was a minimum of grousing at the idea of putting out their own caps. Yvette made her way through the crowd to the steps of the building to wait for Hancock to come down. Her back was already sore from congratulatory slaps; she had no idea how the hell she was going to survive the rest of the evening. KLE-O came up to her as she waited for Hancock to emerge.

“Leading soldiers into a choke-point and initiating an ambush from above; clever and bloodthirsty. I wish I had thought of it myself.” she said.

Yvette snorted. “It was a lucky break.”

“I have to ask though. What is the logic in that move? I’m not complaining, just curious.” KLE-O’s appendages spun at the end of the automaton’s wrists.

“The assholes threatened a place I like and people I like. And I have never been one to enjoy the taste of boot-sole on my tongue, you know?” Yvette replied glibly. It  _ was _ the truth, generally. 

“I can certainly agree.” KLE-O purred. “It will be nice to have another working girl in Goodneighbor; build our forces up.” 

It might have been a joke, but with KLE-O there was no telling. “Better to be of the people, than behind a wall.” Yvette said with a shrug.

The bot nodded approvingly. “Sentiment: approved. See you at the bar.” she said.

Yvette nodded, hearing the doors open, turned to watch Hancock’s loose-limbed strut down the stairs. 

“Beautiful, am I  _ glad _ to see you!” he declared, touching her arm lightly. “Had me thinking you weren’t gonna show up.” 

She had told him, as the smoke was clearing, to get everyone back behind the gate and wait a couple of days before making any kind of celebratory speeches, just to make sure they were safe. Yvette was glad to see he’d done just that, and that by and large everyone  _ was _ safe. 

“You ok, beautiful? I know I look good in the street light, but c’mon now. Thought we were past this.” Hancock said.

Yvette realized she’d just been staring at him. Watching the light bounce around his eyes, the excited twitch of his gestures. She was  _ so _ very glad he was alive, and suddenly even more glad he was…well he was  _ him _ . Yvette reached for him, wrapping her arms around his waist and hugging him tight, pressing her cheek against him and breathing in the cigarette smoke scent that clung to his coat.

Hancock was floored; they were friends, friendly, sure. But she was hugging him like she must’ve thought he’d died or she wasn’t gonna see him again. He hesitated to bring his arms up around her; that’d be real close, real warm…intimate even, and they weren’t really  _ intimate _ . But then she squeezed him again, and Hancock gave into the urge. “Hey,  _ hey _ , beautiful…I’m ok, and so are you. Alright? No need to bust my ribs.” he said softly,waving off the Neighborhood Watchman who paused and frowned at the hug.

“I just…I am glad things worked out, and I am glad you are you.” Yvette said thickly. 

It was probably some of the stuff she was working through, her whole deal, Hancock thought as he patted her back. “So am I, beautiful. And I’m sure you got it worked out that we stay safe, so…ya know, you can relax. Let’s have that drink, huh? Mugsy can run your pack upstairs to your usual room; you can bunk here, breathe a little, right?” It took some effort to coax her into letting go of him and letting him work the straps down her arms from the front. But Hancock managed, passing the pack over. “You know the one she likes.” he said.

Mugsy nodded. “I got it Miss Atomic Blue ™ .” he said before going inside.

Yvette cocked her head. “Miss Atomic  _ Bleu _ ™ ?”

Hancock laughed. “Well, your eyes are a better color than a Vault suit, the Neighborhood’s about agreed. Ain’t gonna bother you, is it?”

“No, I was just surprised to hear that. It makes me sound like a beautiful queen.” Yvette snorted. She thought about reaching out again but she’d probably already made Hancock too uncomfortable. So she reached behind her to pull the knife out of the small of her back. “Would you like this back,  _ Jean _ ?”

Hancock shook his head, pushing it back towards her. “Keep it, it might come in handy some day.”

“It already has.” Yvette replied as she tucked it back. “But I did not want to presume.”

Goddamn, it really got him in the gut when she sounded all lost like that. Maybe after a couple of drinks, she’d tell him what happened that had her so…ruffled. “Presume away, beautiful, your friend and mayor will allow it.” Hancock teased as he wrapped a casual arm around her shoulders. “C’mon, let’s get trashed. Or I’ll get trashed and you won’t, but we’ll have a good time anyway.”

Yvette nodded, folding her arms to keep them to herself even as she pressed against his side. “Victory of the people, for the people.” she said.

“ _ That _ is goddamn catchy…wish I’d said it first.” he said with a laugh as he led her into the Rail.

Yvette shook her head, trying to pull a smile on. Something was different now, something she couldn’t put her finger on. Maybe she was still just tense--everything had had to go very rightly for them to even be celebrating. The scribe had had to be stowed away and confident in her leadership and seen  _ nothing _ , they had had to get rid of everyone else without being caught; she had had to convince the senior staff on the Prydwen, even Maxson. Sleeping with him had definitely  _ not _ been a part of the plan but it had added to the outcome they were now going down to celebrate. Maybe it was just the mood that always came after unsatisfying sex…maybe that was why she was, as Hancock would put it, “ruffled”. Better to drink and to dance and celebrate a surprising citizenship, and then pick up in the morning.

**Author's Note:**

> Fighting-to-sex is the weirdest thing to me; if I'm fighting you, I'm gonna beat ya ass not kiss it lol! But this prompt sparked a weird idea and I figured 'why not just go with it'. Yes, it's a little cracky AND canon for Yvette, because it's just human to do stupid things in the face of loneliness and familiarity. [Ain't it fortunate she comes to her sense fast? :D]


End file.
